“Oh, God, Jenny. What am I doing?”
“You’re fine, Katie. I mean it. But, you know, I would maybe … wear something different.”
Katie looked down at her faded jeans and her maroon V-neck cotton shirt. She thought she had done well, not too dressy, not trying too hard. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the jeans, they’re a little … old? And maybe a bit highwaisted.”
“Oh,” said Katie.
“And the shirt—kind of blah.”
“I was trying to be nonchalant.”
“You succeeded.”
“Jenny, I don’t have anything else!”
“Hey! Why don’t you wear this?” said Jenny, pointing to her own outfit. “I just got these jeans at Lucky. You wear twenty-eight, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And this top would be perfect!” Jenny was wearing an emerald-green silky shirt with a plunging neckline and puffy short sleeves.
“Really?” asked Katie, not sure she could pull it off.
“Definitely. You’ll look fab.”
Katie walked into the bar feeling like an impostor. She imagined that everyone saw past the shiny shirt and the overpriced jeans and knew that she was just a mom who would have to wake up at six the next morning to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for her kids’ lunches. But no one gave her a second glance, so she strode in confidently, searching the crowd for her date.
Katie immediately recognized Dave, who was sitting on the end of a large semicircle-shaped booth with four other guys and three women. When she caught his eye he smiled, jumped up from his seat, and walked over to her.
“Katie?”
“Dave.”
Dave took Katie’s arm and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and as he did she noticed everyone at his table watching and smiling.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” said Katie, nodding her head toward the table.
Dave looked over his shoulder, then turned back to Katie. “Them? That’s just the gang. Or part of it anyway.”
“You’ve got a big gang,” said Katie.
“Safety in numbers, I guess,” said Dave. “Come on, let me get you a drink.” He nabbed two stools at the bar and motioned to the bartender, who came over immediately. “What’ll you have?”
“Vodka tonic?”
“One vodka tonic, and a Boulevard Wheat for me.”
“Oh, I guess I should be drinking beer, huh?” said Katie, feeling like this was the beginning of a long line of social faux pas she would be making that evening.
“Are you kidding?” asked Dave. “You should drink whatever you want.”
“Look, Dave, I’ll be honest with you. I’ve never been to Mike’s Pub in my life, I’ve got two kids at home, and the last guy I dated was more than ten years older than you.” Katie felt relieved. She needed to be out with it, and if Dave didn’t like it, so be it.
“Cool,” said Dave, nodding his head. “So what’s the problem?”
“Nothing, I guess,” said Katie.
“Awesome.”
Katie couldn’t keep her eyes off Dave’s friends sitting in the booth nearby, and they couldn’t keep their eyes off her. “I feel like I’m being watched,” said Katie.
“Who? Oh. Sorry. It always happens when someone new comes on the scene.”
“Who are they?”
“The guys are mostly college friends. The girls … I think we met them here.”
“They’re younger, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And you probably dated them all, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Dave, smiling.
“And you probably still hook up sometimes, right?”
“Not so much,” said Dave, putting on his most sincere face. “I’m trying to branch out. That’s why I did the Internet thing. They all think I’m crazy.”
“Really?” Katie was surprised to hear that online dating was still taboo within Dave’s circle of friends.
“Yeah, no one I know does that.”
“Interesting.”
“We just meet people at bars.”
Katie figured that these young people thought Internet dating was only for desperate divorced moms and dads who didn’t have the time, energy, or patience to sit in a crowded bar and find someone to hook up with. It was probably a source of pride that they had the stamina to drink heavily and stay up late in a smoky bar rather than taking the easy way out by using a searchable database in the comfort of their own home.
“I felt like I wanted to meet someone else, someone different,” said Dave.
“Well, you got it!” said Katie.
“Yeah. I like you.”
“Already?”
“Sure, why not? You’re cool.”
“So you’re looking to get out of Kansas City?” asked Katie.
“Yeah, someday. But I gotta make some money first.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a videographer. You know, corporate stuff, events. I even do weddings if they pay me enough.”
“That’s great.”
“It’s okay. I’d rather be making movies.”
“And I’d rather be writing novels.”
“Really? You’re a writer?”
“No. But I guess that’s what I would have wanted to be if I didn’t get married at twenty-two.”
“Whoa! Twenty-two?”
“Yeah, I know. Sounds like it should be illegal.”
“Man,” said Dave, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m thirty-two and I can’t imagine getting married.”
“I’m sure you can’t,” said Katie with a smile.
“I mean, what’s the point?”
“There is no point,” said Katie. “Well, maybe if you want kids it might be a good idea. But guys don’t have to be in any hurry.”
“Yeah, we’re lucky, huh,” said Dave. “You know, you’re cool. I never heard a woman talk like that. All of them want to get married. Even the divorced ones. They get divorced and then can’t wait to get married again. What’s up with that?”
“Maybe they think that’s what’s expected of them. That being married is what they’re supposed to be and if they’re not they’re a failure,” said Katie. “Maybe they think that if they just date, they’ll keep getting older and the guys’ll stop coming around. And one day they’ll end up all shriveled up and alone.”
“I guess you’ve thought about this once or twice,” said Dave.
“Yeah, once or twice.”
“So why don’t you care about that stuff?”
“Because I learned from my marriage. I learned that marriage isn’t that great, even though society tells you it’s the be-all, endall. And as much as women try to lock in a man by getting married, shit happens. There are no guarantees.”
“Awesome,” said Dave. “You should teach a course or something. Or write a book!”
“Now, there’s an idea.”
After two more drinks and two hours of talking, Dave asked Katie if she wanted to go to a different bar on the other side of town and listen to some live music. Katie suggested they go to his place instead.
Dave lived in one of those massive beige-colored apartment complexes that Katie always passed by and wondered, Who lives there? The units were well-kept characterless boxes, each with a balcony and a corresponding parking place. Dave’s was furnished with the bare minimum—a sofa, a TV, a bed. Nothing on the walls, no knickknacks, nothing that might reveal his personality. In the corner was a shelf piled high with video equipment and a desk with two computers and stacks of papers, folders, and books.
Katie couldn’t help comparing Dave’s place to Ed’s, which was elegant and grand. Everything about Ed was grand—the way he wined and dined her, the flowers and gifts, the early professions of love. But she liked the feeling with Dave—low-key and not the least bit showy. She felt safe in his easygoingness. She could tell that he, too, felt comfortable, particularly after she shared her philosophy on dati
ng and marriage. They were both on the same page. Neither wanted anything more than some casual camaraderie.
“You want something to drink?” asked Dave, walking into his galley kitchen.
“Sure,” said Katie, sitting down on the brown and yellow plaid sofa that looked exactly like the one she had in college, something she had picked up for twenty dollars at a garage sale.
“I just have beer,” he said, handing Katie a bottle and sitting down next to her.
Katie took a drink and wondered how long it would take Dave to kiss her and whether she would have to make the first move. She smiled at him, took another drink, and before she could put her bottle down, he was leaning in for a kiss.
It was a good kiss, thought Katie, but not the best. Not quite as good as Ed. Dave was a little too forceful, a little clumsy with the tongue. She put her bottle on the floor and placed her hands on Dave’s shoulders, guiding him in for another kiss. This time she held him back a bit. When he poked his tongue in her mouth, she slowly leaned away. “Like this,” she said, and proceeded to gently kiss him on his lips, using her tongue sparingly, teasingly.
Dave imitated her movements, and after a few minutes they were perfectly in synch. Katie pulled away and smiled.
“Thanks for the lesson,” Dave said.
“Sorry,” said Katie.
“No, it’s great,” and he leaned in for another kiss.
He started to take off her shirt but got stuck on the buttons on the back. Worried that he might rip Jenny’s blouse, Katie reached around and unbuttoned it herself. After she peeled off her jeans, she started undressing Dave. Once he was naked, he immediately climbed on top of her, ready to go, but she pushed him down and said, “Wait.”
It kept going on like that, Dave pressing forward, Katie pushing him back. She placed his hands where they needed to be, slowed down the pace, all the while giving him verbal cues like, “Right here,” “Gently,” and “Not yet.”
It was a lot more work than it had been with Ed, but it turned out the same in the end. Katie wondered if she was wrong to have taken on the role of teacher with Dave, whether she should have just sat back and let him do what he wanted. But after they were done, the first thing Dave said was, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, I guess,” said Katie.
“That was amazing,” said Dave. “I never had a woman show me like that, tell me what she wanted. You’re good.”
“You too,” said Katie, although she thought to herself that he would probably be much better after a few more sessions with her.
And he was. Over the next few weeks, Katie and Dave got together every Thursday, meeting at Mike’s Pub and then going to his place, and each time it got better and better. Still, the best part was that they stayed casual. For the first time, Katie understood the meaning of friends with benefits. More than anything, she felt like Dave was a good friend who was gradually learning how to satisfy her needs.
Not only that, but Katie also got to know Dave’s buddies from the bar. At first she and Dave remained apart, sitting at their own table when they met and leaving after about an hour. But after a few times Katie suggested they join Dave’s friends, and Dave happily agreed.
Seeing Dave interact with his male friends was like watching a particularly well-written sitcom, with their running jokes, bizarre catchphrases, and silly non sequiturs. Katie also liked the girls in the group, even though they were all about ten years younger than she was. At first, these young women were wary of Katie, who seemed effortlessly confident and sure of herself, able to chat and joke with Dave and his friends without needing their attention or approval. But soon they began to see her as kind and genuine—maybe even someone to learn from.
Katie liked hearing their tales of dating and hooking up, especially the dramas that took place within the group. She learned that each girl had dated each guy over the past couple of years, and now they were all circling back for another round. She discovered that Dave was the first of the group to venture out onto the Internet and start dating someone else. Katie was told that because everyone liked her so much, they were all considering following suit.
Katie got along best with Henry, Dave’s best friend. While Dave was sweet and a bit on the earnest side, Henry was more sarcastic and mischievous. He was also a big flirt.
One night Katie found herself sitting alone at a table with Henry while Dave and another friend shot a game of pool in the next room.
“Alone at last,” said Henry.
“I thought they’d never leave,” said Katie with a smile. She thought nothing of playing Henry’s flirty game, since she was sure nothing would come of it.
“So you’re a mom,” said Henry.
“That I am,” said Katie.
“Very cool.”
“Not really. There are a lot of us moms out there.”
“Yeah, but not as hot as you.”
Katie smiled shyly and looked down at her drink.
“What? You don’t think you’re hot?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think, it’s what the guy thinks, right?”
“Well, I’m a guy, and you’re hot.”
“Thanks, Henry. That means a lot to me,” said Katie sarcastically.
“Actually, you know what you are? You’re a MILF.”
Katie remembered reading that on craigslist and not having the slightest idea what it meant. “What does that mean?”
Henry laughed.
“No, come on. What does it mean?”
“It means ‘moms I’d like to fu—’ ”
“Stop!” shouted Katie. “Don’t say it!” and she covered his mouth with her hand.
“What? You’ve never heard that before?”
“No! Of course not. Where would I have heard that?”
“I bet a lot of guys are thinking it when it comes to you.”
“Stop it, Henry.”
“Dave also told me other stuff about you.”
“Oh, yeah? What did he tell you?”
“He said you’re very ‘experienced.’ ”
“Uh-huh.” Katie was surprised that Dave would talk about her in that way, but she’d learned not to put anything past a guy anymore.
“He said you know exactly what you’re doing in the boudoir. He said he’s learned a lot from you.”
“Really. Dave said that. I find that odd.”
“You know guys talk about that stuff.”
“I guess.”
“Don’t girls?”
“Yeah.”
“You probably tell all your girlfriends about me, huh?”
“Why would I tell them about you and not Dave?”
“Because I’m the one you’d rather be going home with,” said Henry. Then he leaned in as if he was going to kiss her but instead sniffed the side of her neck.
Katie pushed him away. Then she noticed Dave and two of his friends heading back to the table.
“Hey, baby,” said Dave, sitting down next to Katie.
Squished in the booth between Henry and Dave, Katie felt like she was going to suffocate if she didn’t get out. “Excuse me. I’ve got to go to the ladies’ room.”
Before Dave could get up, Katie pushed her way out of the booth, tripping over his leg. She practically sprinted to the restroom, went into a stall, and sat there for five minutes, trying to decide what to do. She wanted to leave but didn’t want to make a scene.
Suddenly Katie’s phone began to vibrate. It was a text from Dave.
“u ok?”
“Yeah,” she wrote. Then she decided she wanted to tell Dave right away, before Henry said something stupid. “Henry made a pass at me.”
After a few seconds, she got another text. “O … sorry.”
“Can we go now?” she wrote.
Back at Dave’s house, Katie told him what happened.
“Typical Henry” was his response.
“Are you mad?” asked Katie.
“No.”
“Really?” said Katie, not belie
ving him.
“Honestly, Katie, this is what we do.”
“This is what you do?”
“Well, not exactly like Henry did it, but … you know, I’ve slept with girls who my friends have gone out with.”
“While they were going out?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of sketchy.”
Katie paused to process all this. “I think things are different now than when I was dating.”
“Maybe. So do you like Henry?” asked Dave.
“Yes, I like him. I wasn’t thinking about sleeping with him.”
“But now you’re probably thinking about it.”
Katie stayed silent.
“Look, Katie. I’ve done this before. People in our group, we’re not all caught up in relationship stuff. Bottom line, I can go either way. I like you a lot. I want you to be happy about this. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”
Katie was having a hard time following Dave’s rambling. “So you’re saying, if I want to sleep with Henry I can, and we can still keep seeing each other.”
“Yes.”
“And if I want to just be with you, that’s okay, too.”
“Right.”
“And you don’t care one way or the other.”
“You got it.”
That was what really got Katie. Dave didn’t care one way or the other. She could sleep with his best friend or not, either way, no big deal.
And wasn’t that exactly what she wanted—a “casual” relationship? Every time Katie tried to be “casual,” she always seemed to get caught up in the traditional relationship trap of wanting longevity and exclusivity. Maybe this was exactly what she needed to do to ensure that she wouldn’t become dependent on Dave. Besides, he clearly wasn’t dependent on her.
“All right, then. If you don’t care, let’s just go for it.” The moment the words came out, Katie worried that Dave would suddenly become crestfallen, that he would regret the whole arrangement.
But without another word, Dave moved closer to Katie and slid her blouse off her shoulder.
The next day, Katie got a text from Henry while she was at work. “Meet me 2nite?”
“Cant,” she wrote back. Katie still hadn’t figured out how to write an apostrophe with her outdated phone.
“Wen?” wrote Henry.
“Tomorrow. Meet me at Russillos at 7.” Even though she knew Henry didn’t make much money as a Web designer, she decided she’d make him take her to a nice dinner before anything happened.
Point, Click, Love Page 13